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In May as that Aurora did vvpspring,
With cristall ene chasing the cluddis sable,
I hard a merle with mirry notis sing,
A sang of lufe, with voce rycht confortable,
5  Agane the orient bemis amiable,
Vpone a blisful brenche of lawryr grene;
This wes hir sentens sueit and delectable,
A lusty lyfe in luves scheruice bene.

Vndir this brench ran doun a revir bricht,
10   Of balmy liquour, cristallyne of hew,
Agane the hevinly aisur skyis licht ,
Quhair did, vpone the tothair syd, persew
A nychtingall, with suggurit notis new,
Quhois angell fedderis as the pacock schone;
15   This wes hir song, and of a sentens true:
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone.

With notis glaid and glorious armony,
This joyfull merle so salust scho the day,
Quhill rong the widdis of hir melody,
20   Saying, "Awalk, ye luvaris, O, this May.
Lo, fresche Flora hes flurest every spray,
As natur hes hir taucht, the noble quene,
The feild bene clothit in a new array;
A lusty lyfe in luvis scheruice bene.

25   Nevir suetar noys wes hard with levand man,
Na maid this mirry gentill nychtingaill,
Hir sound went with the rever as it ran,
Outthrow the fresche and flureist lusty vaill.
"O merle," quod scho, "O fule, stynt of thy taill,
30 For in thy song gud sentens is thair none,
For boith is tynt the tyme and the travaill
Of every luve bot vpone God allone."

"Seiss," quod the merle, "thy preching, nychtingale,
Sall folk thair yewth spend in-to holiness?
35 Of yung sanctis growis auld feyndis but fable;
Fy, ypocreit, in yeiris tendirness,
Agane the law of kynd thow gois express,
That crukit aige makis on with yewth serene,
Quhome natur of conditionis maid dyverss;
40 A lusty life in luves scheruice bene."

The nychtingaill said, "Fule, remembir the,
That both in yewth and eild, and every hour,
The luve of God most deir to man suld be,
That him of nocht wrocht lyk his awin figour.
45 And deit him self fro deid him to succour.
O, quhithir wes kythit thair trew lufe or none?
He is most trew and steidfast paramour;
All luve is lost bot vpone him allone."

The merle said, "Quhy put God so grit bewte
50 In ladeis, with sic womanly having,
But gife he wald that thay suld luvit be?
To luve eik natur gaif thame inclynnyng;
And He, of natur that wirker wes and king,
Wald no thing frustir put, nor lat be sene,
55 In to his creature of his awin making:
A lusty lyfe in luves scheruice bene."

The nychtingall said, "Nocht to that behufe
Put God sic bewty in a ladeis face,
That scho suld haif the thank thairfor or lufe,
60 Bot He, the wirker, that put in hir sic grace,
Off bewty, bontie, richess, tyme or space,
And every gudness that bene to cum or gone;
The thank redoundis to him in every place;
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone."

65 "O nychtingall, it wer a story nyce,
That luve suld nocht depend on cherite,
And gife that vertew contrair be to vyce,
Than lufe mon be a vertew, as thinkis me;
For ay to lufe invy mone contrair be:
70   God bad eik lufe thy nychtbour fro the splene,
And quho than ladeis suetar nychbouris be?
A lusty lyfe in lufe[s] scheruice bene."

The nychtingaill said, "Bird, quhy dois thow raif?
Man may tak in his lady sic delyt,
75   Him to foryet that hir sic vertew gaif,
And for his hevin rassaif hir cullour quhyt;
Hir goldin tressit hairis redomyt,
Lyk to Appollois bemis thocht thay schone,
Suld nocht him blind fro lufe that is perfyt;
80 All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone."

The merle said, "Lufe is causs of honour ay,
Luve makis cowardis manheid to purchass,
Luve makis knychtis hardy at assey,
Luve makis wrechis full of lergeness,
85 Luve makis sueir folkis full of bissiness,
Luve makis sluggirdis fresche and weill besene,
Luve changis vyce in vertewis nobilness;
A lusty lyfe in luvis scheruice bene."

The nychtingaill said, "Trew is the contrary;
90   Sic frustir luve, it blindis men so far,
In-to thair myndis it makis thame to vary;
In fals vane glory thai so drunkin ar,
Thair wit is went, of wo thai ar nocht war,
Quhill that all wirchip away be fro thame gone,
95 Fame, guddis and strenth; quhairfoir weill say I dar,
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone."

Than said the merle, "Myn errour I confess;
This frustir luve all is bot vanite;
Blind ignorance me gaif sic hardiness,
100   To argone so agane the varite;
Quhairfoir I counsall every man, that he
With lufe nocht in the feindis net be tone,
Bot luve the luve that did for his lufe de;
All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone."

105  Than sang thay both with vocis lowd and cleir;
The merle sang, "Man, lufe God that hes the wrocht:"
The nychtingall sang, "Man, lufe the lord most deir,
That the and all this warld maid of nocht:"
The merle said, "Luve him that thy lufe hes socht
110  Fra hevin to erd, and heir tuk flesche and bone:"
The nychtingall sang, "And with his deid the bocht;
All lufe is lost bot vpone him allone."

Thane flaw thit birdis our the bewis schene,
Singing of lufe amang the levis small,
115  Quhois ythand pleid yit maid my thochtis grene,
Bothe sleping, walkin, in rest and in travall;
Me to reconfort most it dois awaill
Agane for lufe, quhen lufe I can find none,
To think how song this merle and nychtingaill,
120  All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone.

Finis quod Dumbar.